don't open your eyes yet
by day dreaming dreamer
Summary: "Don't open your eyes yet," he pleads, eyes focused. No matter how many times they've met, she's always so struck by how he seems to burn her very soul. Her body aches for his, but she keeps her face impassive. He begs her once more. She's so willing while asleep, so tired of fighting against a current that's always going against her. "Please."


**_don't open your eyes yet:_**

" _Loving you was the most exquisite form of self-destruction."_

* * *

Rey hasn't slept in days.

She's tired, of course, but she keeps herself busy. She trains with Luke until there's blisters on her fingertips and wounds on her face. He's a smart teacher, kind, but he won't let her get distracted. Which was a good thing, because Rey wouldn't have it any other way. Distractions were tedious things, consisting of raven hair and a brooding smile and everything she _despised_ and _longed_ for. She knows Luke can sense it—her attachment (for lack of a better word) to all the wrong things. To the wrong man. To the wrong side. So she fights, and only Luke stops her when she's trembling, bloody, and grimy, and on the verge of mental and physical collapse. She pretends to be finished, but after he leaves, she slices up trees. Up bushes. She runs in the woods until her lungs collapse. She practices with the force until black dots dance in her vision. Rey wants to get stronger. Better. She doesn't want to hesitate the next time she comes face to face with Kylo Ren.

She lays in the forest afterwards, dancing on the brink of sleep deprivation, until she's near certain that he's watching her. Standing a distance away. Staring. Smiling. The smile is what gets her back to reality. He doesn't smile. Maybe in another time he would've, but any light in him was dead now. If she's not resting, she drinks water heartily from a stream. She loves her solitude. Only after her training with Luke began in this secluded, peaceful place, she recalls how much she missed being alone. It was a lonely life on Jakku, but she would always be a loner by habit. She inhales the tranquility of being alone. The way the smell of salt and brine cover her senses. Rey loves it here. It's like a sanctuary. She doesn't want to go back, but she must. Eventually. Luke and her haven't quite had that conversation yet, the matters of the hows and the whens. Rey hasn't even asked if he would be joining her upon their return.

She's been here for weeks.

She knows she owes it to Leia and Finn and all the others to return, and that she's being selfish while the fate of the universe hangs in the balance, but Rey can't bring herself to think about them more than a few times a day.

There's an ocean that surrounds this world, and she can't get enough of it. She hikes through the forest until she's met with the body of water. It's so cold it awakens all her senses, and forces her not to think about _him_. That would be for later. When she would finally sleep, because she knew she eventually would, and she was just heedlessly putting off the inevitable. The sand is coarse between her toes. She's not very fond of sand, but she enjoys the water. It's almost like an obsession now to go down and stare at it for hours upon end.

 _"_ _You know I can take whatever I want."_

This places helps numb her memories of _him_. She doesn't even dare think his name, somehow as if that will reconnect him. She's felt his force all the way until she got to this planet with Chewbacca. Then it was gone. She felt his panic, his despair, when she had landed here. It had been like bad reception. Static. She could no longer feel him, therefore he could no longer feel her. She feels him searching for her with his mind, even now, but she pushes away from him. He's been looking for her all this time, but it's not rage that fuels him. It's worry.

She sighs. She throws a rock. She feels the water spray between her toes. It doesn't make any sense. He's a monster that murdered Han. His own father. Why does he care so much for her? Lust? Obsession? Does he think she can fill all the voids he's lost? Whatever the reason, he clings to her. Desperately.

And she clings back, because she's just as lonely as he is.

And Luke knows it, feels her intimacy for his nephew, but he refuses to acknowledge it. They both refuse to acknowledge a lot lately. She wonders, would it be so bad to stay here with Luke? Forever? It was nothing more than a fantasy. Eventually, she would have to leave. She couldn't leave Finn and Poe and the others. And she more than owed it to Leia to bring her twin back. She picks up sand. She rubs it in her palm. Feels it's roughness, and then lets it fall between her fingertips. She does this for a while, scooping and spilling. She's freezing as the hours pass and daytime dims. The ocean now looks more haunting than beautiful.

"I thought I might find you here."

The planet is on the brink of darkness, and she senses him before he even opens his mouth. She curls up tighter and tenses, cursing herself. The ocean plays mystical music in the background, and she stands to her feet. The forest isn't snowing, and he has the scar, but it's almost completely faded. She tries not to stare at him too long. It's been two days since she last saw him, and she supposes fatigue finally won her over.

Their forces were strong with each other. Only when she sleeps does he come now. He's not strong enough to reach her all the way on this planet, but dreams seem to lack any logical reasoning.

"You've been avoiding me," he states calmly, as if they weren't enemies that were destined to kill each other.

"You know why," she snaps back. The wind blows her hair. It's tied up in three unusual ponytails, but she can feel the breeze comb through every strand. Her patience is fed up, and she's still so tired even though she knows she's asleep. She concentrates. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. She rips at her hair, pulling at the brunette tendrils, and he roughly yanks her hands away.

"Don't open your eyes yet," he pleads, eyes focused. No matter how many times they've met, she's always so struck by how he seems to burn her very soul. Her body aches for his, but she keeps her face impassive. She tries to concentrate, to guard her thoughts from him. But she's so willing while asleep, so tired of fighting against a current that's always going against her. _"Please_."

"You're pathetic," she whispers.

"And you're a liar," he retorts. "You're not showing me the real you."

And she's not. This is the version of herself with no training wounds, and no bags under her eyes. She doesn't want Ben to know how much she's been suffering, and she doesn't want Kylo to know that she's been brought to the ground with her own weaknesses. That she's now lamentable instead of the strong Jedi she's supposed to be. There's no blisters on her hands, no bruises on her face, and no exhaustion on her features.

"You're vile. Disgusting."

"That hardly seems fair. I've been honest from the second I've met you. Scar and all." He's smirking again, and she wants to plow into his skin until his comely face is imprinted on her balled hand. Until she can taste his blood. She can feel his emotions now. They're a whirlwind of agony and darkness, somehow alluring and suffocating at the same time. With a trembling hand, she reaches up and touches it. He closes his eyes as she runs a shaky hand over the tarnished skin. It stretches across the tip of his nose and nearly into his eye, and it's white now instead of red and bloody.

"I want you, Rey," he breathes.

She tugs her hand back, guilt dissipating. She now remembers why she slashed his face. Why she denies him time and time again.

She imagines him good. She imagines him with Leia and Han, smiling and laughing with her, where there's no war, and it's just them. She could pour the light into him, and erase the very memory of Kylo Ren. They would be happy together, in a different life. But this isn't a different life, and she's reminded of that by the way the darkness threatens to overtake her very being.

"And I want you." His eyes ignite with lust as her hands firmly cup his cheeks, somehow disgustingly pleased with himself. She feels his smugness at how easily willing she had been, but his victory dissipates as she repeats herself. "I want you, Ben Solo."

He yanks away from her as if scalded. "That will _never_ be me." His anger and frustration hits her like multiple waves, so red and vicious that she nearly tumbles backwards. The ocean churns viciously, as if to compensate with both their moods, and she glowers up at him through long lashes.

"And I will _never_ be yours."

There's light in him. Just. Barely. She senses it, but it's so small. So miniscule. Filled with memories of his childhood. Of Leia. Of Han. Of herself. Back when things were simpler, and he spent hours making makeshift weapons. She reflects the light inside him back to himself. Flaunts it in front of his face. He's angry now. She's always been tall, but he's somehow taller, vast he towers over her. He looks like he wants to hit her, and she almost wishes he would. That would make it a little easier to fight him. To look that scar in the face.

"It must be so hard to keep that temper of yours under check," she goads, her tone hostile and hot. Her skin flushes as the ghost of his fingertips brush against her throat. He wants to smother the light from her, but she knows he won't. Stupid, misguided boy. He's so sure of his feelings for her. That he finally loves something other than himself. "Go ahead. Strangle me. I know it's what you really want to do."

He scowls. Kicks a rock. Turns his back to her and begins to mutter things under his breath. When he's finally composed, he turns back around. "Show me yourself." It's a command, one that she'll refuse.

"Why? Will it make it easier when you kill me?"

This throws him. He has to open his mouth several times before he can finally settle on a solid response. "I— I— never wanted to hurt you."

She knows that's true. For whatever reason, whether it be selfish or selfless or just a mere act of confusion, he doesn't want to see that light inside of her snuff out. Even when interrogating her, he just prodded at her mind a little. Taunted her with her painful memories, but never laid a single hand on her, other than to whisk her away in his arms when they had met for the first time. He could've let her hit the ground, but he hadn't. He could've let another carry her back, but he had done it himself. And she can't understand why. He's evil, cruel— coarse and unruly as sand. Her feelings for him are acts of his manipulation. She assures herself that her feelings are fleeting, but she's doubtful.

Their relationship tears her mind apart, and yet she refuses to let it go.

 _"_ _Don't be afraid. I feel it too."_

He raises a hand to her face. His glove is gone now. It's just his hand. Skin on skin. Fire spreads along her cheek as his fingers graze the curve of her tanned jawline. "Show yourself to me, and I'll leave you alone. I need to see you. As you are now. Just one more time."

She swallows, and considers it. The barriers around her mind break a little, and she feels him pushing at her walls somehow _delicately._ He's rarely soft and hesitant, but he is now, on her cheek and in her mind. She closes her eyes, and lets him see her. The scars on her hands from Jakku, and the purple bruises on her face. The lightsaber slashes. The bags underneath her eyes. How thin she's become since their last fight. She feels his breath sharpen. His emotions go haywire. She can feel them as clearly as she feels her own. He feels murderous anger— at whoever did this to Rey. He feels helpless— because he shouldn't feel protective of her, not in the slightest.

"You need proper care." That's all he says. His voice sounds neutral, but it continuously wavers. He's keeping his temper under control. For her. She feels nauseated and happy at the thought, and the happiness only fuels to her self hatred. "You need sleep. A warm bed." He snatches her scarred hand in his smooth one, and studies the blisters and reddened flesh. "Why must you stubbornly refuse help?"

"I'd rather die than take help from you," she snaps, tugging her hand back.

He smirks. "So stubborn. This situation would be a lot easier if you just accepted defeat and joined me. I could teach you. Properly. You would have your own room. Food for years. You'd never have to worry about anything ever again— I'd see sure to that."

She snorts. "Control freak. I do what I please."

"I think I've figured that out by now."

A ghost of a genuine smile coaxes at her lips, and she thinks she sees one on him, but it disappears as soon as she stares too hard.

"Or you could join us," she suggests, not daring to look at him. She feels his frustration, as unbearable as her own. "You'd have a bed and food, but it won't be anything too fancy. You would have to do your part, but it would be filled with light. Happiness."

"I can't."

She sighs. She's not sure why she continues this game between them. He'll never agree. She'll never agree. "I know."

There's a silence, and she huffs, blowing an escaped strand from her face. He tugs the hair away himself, and kisses her firmly, his hands running over her cuts and bruises. She hates herself for loving him. Every night, she's reduced to this. To her knees. Even if it's not real. Even if tomorrow morning would bring nothing but guilt and dread. Surprisingly, he goes no further than a kiss. There's normally something animalistic when they touch, filled with sucking and biting and blood. But not this time.

"I'll never leave you alone," he whispers in her ear, grip tightening. "I'll always find you."

She shivers in his grip. That's exactly what frightens her. He scares her. Whatever they have— it terrifies her. She concentrates. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

"Don't go yet," he commands. He allows his head to fall onto her shoulder. She runs her hand through his dark curls. He's beautiful, she thinks. A fallen angel. "Don't open your eyes."

Tears well up in her eyes. She blinks them back, but her voice sounds thick when she finally murmurs what's troubling her. "I hate myself because of you."

"I know." He pulls back and kisses her forehead. "I hate myself, too."

And then she severs the connection because she can't take it anymore. The image of him blurs into darkness, and then her world explodes back into light again. She wakes up crying. Sobbing. Shaking. She cuts him off so quickly that she feels his worry, but then it's gone as she slams him away. She hasn't been asleep long. It's still daylight, not yet nighttime like in her dream. She picks herself up after a few more seconds. She feels sluggish.

She goes to walk, wondering if Luke is worried, when she freezes at the sight of her mentor.

"Luke," she exclaims. "I didn't mean—"

"It's alright, Rey. I know."

A few more tears slip past her walls, and she wants to hit herself for being so weak. "I don't think I'll be able to do it."

Luke forces a weak, saddened smile to his lips. "I can make him go away, if that's what you wish."

Desperation is rammed into her like a freight train. But she needs him, she wants to rasp out. She needs him for her oxygen. She needs him. She touches the saber scar on her arm, briefly, eyes flittering back up to Luke's. It's for the best, she realizes, when she thinks back to her sleepless nights. When he attacks her in her dreams, kisses her, speaks to her like she's a drug rather than a person. It isn't right. And it isn't fair. She shuts her eyes, and then lets them open. When she speaks, finally, it's in a raspy whisper. "Make him go away."

She sleeps well that night. Her dreams are filled with nothing but a vast, empty void where he should be.

 _He_ doesn't sleep at all that night.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm in over my head with this ship. I can't stop editing about it and writing about it. Do you understand how much Tumblr there is of them? I can't stop. One of the arguments that anti-reylo shippers has is that their relationship is abusive. I think that yes, it is unhealthy, but not abusive. Not in the common way, at least. He's not going to hit her and torture her. He's going to play mind games with her. She's going to play with him back.**

 **I think that Rey and Kylo have a lot of lust for one another. I don't think lust is always sexual. I mean, certainly there is a ton of chemistry involved, but it isn't all about sex. There is a lot of calculation in lust. Lots of manipulation and attempts to dominate the other partner.** **Lust also comes in the form of false love, which I believe is surrounded around whether or not their feelings are real or they're just using each other for their own selfish gain. I think that depicts Reylo perfectly. I feel like I'm reading too far into their relationship, but whatever. I'm clearly reylo trash by now.**

 **I feel like I made them too OOC. I don't know. Review? I'm sorry if this is awful.**


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